


i’ll be in the middle (you two get along)

by pixiepower



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Porn with Feelings, Seokmin Sexy, Seungkwan Sexy, Threesome - M/M/M, do i have your attention dot mp3, lee seokmin’s arms holding back kim mingyu at the behest of boo seungkwan, tenderness level: playful and present
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25599493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixiepower/pseuds/pixiepower
Summary: Seungkwan and Mingyu and their games, and Seokmin playing both sides.Mingyu might be in the center, but Seokmin is in the middle. And everyone is getting exactly what they want.
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Kim Mingyu, Boo Seungkwan/Kim Mingyu/Lee Seokmin | DK, Boo Seungkwan/Lee Seokmin | DK, Kim Mingyu/Lee Seokmin | DK
Comments: 13
Kudos: 138





	i’ll be in the middle (you two get along)

**Author's Note:**

> title from “in the middle” by dodie.
> 
> my boogyu ot3 agenda returns, in the form of....... booseokgyu again!! surprise!! this is thanks to them puppy-piling in gose and generally being very handsy and giggly this era. havin a good time.
> 
> thank you, pey, our brain pups are my favorite, and this, as ever, is yours too.

No sooner does Mingyu’s palm make contact with Seungkwan’s ass than Seungkwan’s little hand is wrapped around his wrist, golden tan going pink in between with the firmness of his grip. There are little indents where Seungkwan’s fingers don’t quite meet around the circumference of Mingyu’s wrist, and just the sight of it rings bells inside Seokmin’s head, something Pavlovian.

Seokmin thinks about what’s led to this.

The energy today has been thrumming, buzzing like the telephone lines outside, the dead of summer dripping down their backs, rivulets racing like their thoughts. 

Even before Seungkwan got home from picking up food Seokmin and Mingyu were kind of going at it. That new drama was rolling on Seungkwan’s laptop, but they were spending longer than usual messing around, doing increasingly mocking impressions of each other until they dissolved into face-cracking laughter. Mingyu’s eyeroll had turned into a toothy grin, and before long they were pawing and shoving at each other, Mingyu nosing at the sweat on Seokmin’s neck and Seokmin’s hand landing with a hydrated  _ smack  _ on the inside of Mingyu’s thigh where his shorts had ridden up. It really wasn’t planned, but the way Mingyu had turned colors like the sunset at Seokmin’s thumb digging into the soft meat of the inside of his leg made it feel like it paid off, at least until Mingyu’s teeth sank into Seokmin’s trapezius through the few centimeters of fabric covering them.

It’s really too hot to roughhouse, but he and Mingyu have never much cared to worry about the right time for things. It’s why a relationship like this works.

So there’s already an excited little tug, something dormant waking up with a rumbling sound like their air unit, in the pit of Seokmin’s stomach by the time Seungkwan is nudging the door open with his elbow, key between his teeth and hands balancing the bag of chicken and all their drinks.

“You didn’t finish episode eight yet, right?” Seungkwan unhooks his mask from both ears and sets it in the little basket by the front door once his hands are free, rolling his wrists and ankles. The third-floor walk-up is beautiful when the sun streaks through the leaves in the tree outside their bedroom window, but takes its toll on the joints.

Seokmin tilts his head over the back of the couch to meet Seungkwan’s eye where he’s puttering around in the kitchen and shakes his head. “Halfway through seven.” He doesn’t mention that he and Mingyu only kind of know what’s going on since they made out through the entirety of episodes two and five, but Seokmin is confident they’ll be able to bluff their way through it if he takes point on the questioning.

“Mm,” Seungkwan hums, pleased, which makes Seokmin feel pleased, too. “I’ve got time to change, then. We can eat together and catch up before the new episode tonight.”

Mingyu shifts between Seokmin’s legs, bare arm slung over his knee, and spends a long, stretched-out, summer second gazing at Seungkwan. “Do you have to?”

Seungkwan’s eyebrow raises, but he doesn’t look up from where he’s putting some of the extra napkins into a drawer already stuffed full of takeaway napkins. “Eat with you?”

“Change,” Mingyu whines.

The indignant way Seungkwan’s lip was en route to curling spreads wide into a smile that he turns his whole body away from them to hide.

Seokmin likes when Seungkwan and Mingyu get like this; their bickering turns the corner from barbless teasing into something a little thicker, headier. 

They never really mean it, all the love and affection they have for each other painfully apparent with each soft gesture. Their mouths are saying,  _ You’re such a dummy,  _ but Mingyu is mending the holes in Seungkwan’s favorite t-shirt, pins in his mouth and needle and thread in hand, curled up small at the desk in the bedroom while Seungkwan is in the shower. They might say,  _ You’re so annoying,  _ but Seungkwan cries all the way through  _ Amazing You  _ at the noraebang and lets the back of Mingyu’s knuckles swipe under his eyes afterward, perched on Mingyu’s lap like he was made to fit there.

But sometimes they all want to push and push and push and see where things go, and Seokmin is well aware that Mingyu is already there, has been there for hours, antsy and wanting attention and being willing to do just about anything to get it.

The hot air blowing through the room is palpable, but it feels light, like it’s at their backs and they’re about to start a footrace. Something laden with adrenaline and optimism.

Seungkwan stretches his arms up high, the tiny place at his waist where Seokmin’s giant t-shirt is tucked into his jeans doing the Lord’s work, and Mingyu makes a quiet, strangled noise in the back of his throat that Seokmin can really, really relate to. “Okay, well, I want to change so I’m going to change,” Seungkwan says. “I’m all sweaty since  _ someone  _ didn’t want to get their own tea.”

Seokmin shoves his face into Mingyu’s arm and receives a nudge and a wriggle in response. Each press of their skin against each other feels sticky with heat, and so does the warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. Seokmin has always been easy to rile up.

When Seungkwan walks across the between the couch and the coffee table he drops a kiss on Seokmin’s forehead, and moves to give one to Mingyu, too, until he’s jolted upright by a firm hand on his backside.

The denim only does so much to muffle the sound of Mingyu’s open hand, a full palm’s worth of contact struck between Mingyu’s hand and Seungkwan’s ass, and everything moves quickly, Seungkwan’s hand on Mingyu’s wrist and something burning like competition in his eyes. That feeling in the air rushes into Seokmin’s lungs and leaves him feeling like his feet are tilted on starting blocks, eager to be set off with a gunshot.

“Oh, you’re just so cute, aren’t you, Mingyu,” Seungkwan coos now, saccharine-sweet, gazing down at Mingyu and Seokmin where they’re tangled up on the couch, jaw tight in the back like rock candy is crystallizing between his teeth.

Mingyu’s eyes go wide, and his tongue darts out. He scoots back instinctively between Seokmin’s thighs, his limbs folded together and back nestling into Seokmin’s chest, and the force of it  _ thumps  _ directly over Seokmin’s ribcage. 

They fit together even better now than they used to, his broadening chest the perfect dimension to cradle Mingyu. The gradual change was hard for Seokmin to see; it felt like, despite his hard work, nothing was different, until it all set in at once and he could suddenly whirl Seungkwan around while they dance in the front room, and Mingyu’s thumbs are tracing the soft outline of his muscles in his shirts. The way they look at him is something to be proud of, moreso than anything else.

As soon as Mingyu is flush with his body, Seokmin can practically hear the countdown start.  _ Hana, dul, set, net— _

“You think so?” Mingyu asks, picking up speed as he goes, lisp getting caught under his feet, sprinting ahead of himself, “I just think Seungkwanie is cute, you know? His waist, his body. Can hardly help myself when he’s in those jeans.”

Seungkwan’s eyelids drop a little, and Seokmin can see his thumbnail follow the line of the vein on the inside of Mingyu’s wrist, just teasing.

“Seokmin-hyung, can you help me with something?”

A loose grin spreads over Seokmin’s face. A flare of excitement goes off in the pit of his stomach.  _ And they’re off. _ “Of course.”

“What, I don’t get a ‘hyung’?” Mingyu pouts, squirming between Seokmin’s legs. Seokmin’s hand slides down and settles on Mingyu’s waist, fingers ducking under the hem of his sleeveless tee to feel Mingyu’s muscles jump.

“No.” Seungkwan climbs up and leans in, hands and feet together on the seat of the couch, his socked feet small in the indent usually left by Mingyu. He tilts forward, past Mingyu’s pout and pink-appled cheek to kiss Seokmin again, this time dirty and slow and  _ loud,  _ sloppy on purpose like he doesn’t usually like, right next to Mingyu’s ear. He hums with satisfaction when he pulls away and leaves Seokmin a little kiss-dazed, a pleasant pastel dizziness like clouds in the sky. Something that clears as soon as Seungkwan says, “Get Minggoo’s arms for me.”

The squeak that Mingyu lets out at the soft but firm tone of Seungkwan’s voice gets Seokmin giggling.

And Seokmin’s hands duck back out from where they were gentle on Mingyu’s soft stomach, gliding up the sway of his back and pulling his arms behind him, shoulders rolled back and chest bowed out. On display like this, Mingyu wriggles a little more, trying to get his legs tucked underneath his body, and huffs noisily the whole time. The movement brushes Seokmin’s fingertips against Mingyu’s sides, and Mingyu lets out a high-pitched gasp.

“You okay, Mingyu?” Seokmin murmurs, loosening his arms just a little.

Mingyu nods vigorously, maybe just a little too quickly, and Seokmin buries his grin into the nape of his neck. Mingyu is pushing forward a bit, testing Seokmin’s grip. Seokmin sees very closely how redness flushes from his hairline, winding down his neck and disappearing into his shirt, and a rush of pride — and something else, barefaced want — settle into his chest.

“When did you get so strong?” Mingyu mutters. It’s a little breathless.

Seungkwan is still in his Spider-Man pose, watching Mingyu squirm with interested eyes. There’s a play being plotted behind them, noughts and crosses and arrows, and Seokmin wants to be on the winning team.

“Thank you, hyung,” Seungkwan says to Seokmin, moving forward and running his hand over Mingyu’s arm, up his shoulder, cupping Mingyu’s face in his palm. His thumb finds the corner of Mingyu’s mouth, and he sighs, woebegone. “What am I going to do with you, Minggoo?”

Seokmin can’t see Mingyu’s face where he’s tucked up in the crook of his neck, but would call it a pretty safe bet that he’s pouting when he says, “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay. I do.” And Seungkwan’s other hand lands soft but heavy on the front of Mingyu’s shorts. He has the sweetest shit-eating grin on his face when Mingyu whines and writhes in Seokmin’s grip, winding up with his legs spread, Seungkwan crowded up between them.

There is something to be said for doing this in the middle of the afternoon, sun streaming through the open window, freckling everything with the gentle, fuzzy shadows cast by leaves on the tree outside. The room is bright enough that Seokmin can make out the gentle golden-pinkness of Seungkwan’s cheeks, the moisture gathering at Mingyu’s temple, the indent left on Seungkwan’s bottom lip from his teeth pressing into it.

“Seungkwan,” Mingyu complains. “Stop  _ teasing _ me.”

Seungkwan’s little hands trail gently over every centimeter of exposed skin on Mingyu’s body, pushing his shirt up to tease at his stomach, thumbs pressing over his nipples and tutting when Mingyu huffs out an annoyed-sounding breath. “You’re so noisy. All that energy and the only thing that’s running is your mouth.”

“Well, I don’t exactly see anyone doing anything about it —  _ mmph!” _

“Oh, we should have thought of that much earlier. It’s a good way to avoid neighbors complaining about our loud pup,” Seungkwan coos, kissing the back of Seokmin’s hand where it’s pressed against Mingyu’s mouth.

He hasn’t kissed Mingyu yet. All three of them are very aware of it.

Seungkwan and Mingyu and their games, and Seokmin playing both sides. Seokmin loves them, loves this. He gets their push and pull, knows all their tricks. Before they figured things out together it used to stress Seokmin out, playing mediator, trying to de-escalate and distract, but it became readily apparent once they all fell into bed together that it’s  _ fun,  _ that they push to see what they can get away with because they want to see and know every part of each other. Seokmin doesn’t really have the fortitude to hold out for long, but in no other game does the referee get to be on the field like this.

Mingyu might be in the center, but Seokmin is in the middle. And everyone is getting exactly what they want.

A needy whine escapes from the spaces between Seokmin’s fingers, and Mingyu’s back arches just a little, rubbing up against where Seokmin is starting to get hard. It feels accidental, at least at first, but Seokmin can tell it increasingly isn’t, if the way Mingyu resettles between his legs and rolls his hips back is any indication. 

“Mingyu,” Seokmin hisses into his ear, teeth nipping at his earlobe and then lower, finding his neck and sucking a dark mark against the glistening gold there. Seokmin likes leaving marks on his boyfriends, littering collarbones and chests and thighs. There’s something claiming in the moment and something prideful days later, watching shorts ride up or shirts get buttoned over the blooms, just to feel like Seungkwan and Mingyu are taking him with them. He pulls his hand away from Mingyu’s mouth when his breathing starts to come a little heavier.

Much as he tries, Mingyu has never been good at hiding what he wants. “What, you’re going to tell me to  _ be good?”  _ Mingyu asks Seokmin in a whisper, really breathlessly now, before gasping and lifting his hips. 

Seungkwan’s hands are teasing at the insides of Mingyu’s thighs, the legs of his shorts pushed up high and fingertips dancing over the soft skin there. Mingyu is very visibly hard now, fabric straining, and Seokmin has to take a deep breath to keep his eyes on the prize. Seungkwan laughs, a sweet sound that flutters inside Seokmin’s chest like a banner. “We all know that’s impossible.”

“I’m good!” Mingyu insists.

“That’s why you’re constantly smacking my ass?” Seungkwan says, pursing his lips and pushing his hand up the leg hole to feel him inside his shorts.

“Fuck.” Mingyu’s head tips back over Seokmin’s shoulder, and Seokmin can see his profile now. The line of his neck, all but drenched in sweat, and his parted lips. He could look at Mingyu forever. “I just—ah—when you have two boyfriends whose thighs look like that, who fill out pants like you do—”

A punched-out whine completes the sentence, and Seokmin is almost too busy watching Mingyu’s face contort in pleasure to find out why. But he glances down, and sees both of Seungkwan’s hands wrapped around Mingyu’s cock, saliva dripping from his mouth down into Mingyu’s lap, and Seokmin gasps, too, rutting up without meaning to against the curve of Mingyu’s ass.

Seungkwan must be pretty worked up himself to have let things unravel this fast. Some days Seungkwan can edge Mingyu for hours, leave him gasping and pleading and promising to do whatever Seungkwan wants, at least until he catches his breath. 

Today is clearly not one of those days, and love swells up inside Seokmin’s chest until his smile aches on his cheeks, seeing sweat sticking Seungkwan’s hair to his temples and watching his hands work over Mingyu, both of them moving tight and wet with spit and precome. His hands are small on Mingyu, barely covering him in his entirety, and it makes Seokmin feel a little unhinged.

A few more twists of Seungkwan’s wrist and Mingyu is twisting too, shoving his face into Seokmin’s neck, hot breaths like kisses. “Ah,  _ ah,  _ don’t tease,” Mingyu whines, already moving so much between Seokmin and Seungkwan, pressed sweaty and desperate between them.  _ “Please.” _

“How about this,” Seungkwan starts, and just the start of the sentence sets both Mingyu and Seokmin off groaning. Seungkwan laughs, and looks smug when he continues, “I get you off now and me and Seokmin finish up by ourselves, or you wait and come last, and you get to help.”

“Fuck!” Mingyu whines.

His disappointment and helplessness is  _ palpable,  _ his shorts bunched up around his thighs as he strains against Seokmin’s arms. Seokmin suddenly realizes how little effort it’s taken to pin Mingyu back against him, flexing his arms experimentally. Seungkwan flicks his eyes up and notices, because of course he does, and now of all moments while his hands are slowly pumping Mingyu’s cock, his face flushes a little red at the edges.

It’s not always possible, to have each other like this, but to Seokmin it’s really quite ideal; Mingyu gets to work out his energy, roughhouse and have all the attention on him, Seungkwan gets his way, and Seokmin gets to be with them, to fool around with Mingyu and to please Seungkwan.

“Come on, Mingyu,” Seokmin murmurs. “You wanna make us come?”

Mingyu is quick to make his decision, then. “Let me up.”

“That’s our boy,” Seungkwan says sweetly, and they watch Mingyu turn pink between them.

Seokmin lets Mingyu’s arms loose, and half a heartbeat later Mingyu is in his lap, kissing him hot and  _ good  _ like they were earlier, in the middle of—“Oh, shit, it’s still playing.”

“What?”

Seokmin bursts into laughter, mouth still pressed against Mingyu’s, teeth clacking together. “The computer. Drama’s still on.”

“Seok, I say this with so much love, but I am so fucking hard. Please, I want to make you and Seungkwanie come so bad.” Mingyu is whimpering and wet and bright pink in his lap, and how can Seokmin say no?

Seungkwan snorts to the side of them. “You want to make us come so you can come, Minggoo, it’s not quite as selfless as you make it sound.”

Mingyu leans all the way back, like, all the way back so his head is in Seungkwan’s lap, and Seokmin has to shoot his arms out to steady his waist for fear his clumsiest boyfriend will brain himself on the coffee table. (They’ve had a close call before, after an ill-advised attempt at shower sex. Seokmin and Mingyu together are too big for that, they’ve discovered, and the tile in the corner of the stall is still cracked.)

“But you like it,” Mingyu says softly, almost a question. None of his faux-innocent, gentle act, just barefaced desire as he flips himself over with some effort to nose at Seungkwan’s stomach, pressing his lips to the line of his jeans where Seungkwan’s shirt is tucked in.

Seungkwan’s hand finds its way to Mingyu’s face again, tipping it up. Seokmin can see all the banter melt away as he replies with a gentle little smile, “I like  _ you.” _

It seems to spur Mingyu on, if his giggle and flushed cheeks are any indication, and soon he’s unzipping Seungkwan’s jeans, pushing them down with Seungkwan’s eager help and taking him into his mouth.

Watching Mingyu suck Seungkwan off is not exactly the easiest task for Seokmin, whose own joggers aren’t hiding the way Seungkwan and Mingyu make him feel. Seungkwan’s face always gets this shocked little look on it when Mingyu slides his tongue down the length of him, like he can’t believe how good it feels, like he can’t believe his luck.

Seokmin knows Seungkwan feels like that sometimes; he and Seungkwan are the same, that way. They both have that little voice in the back of their mind that whispers there’s no reason for all this love. Second-guessing themselves and worrying that the good things in their life just fell in their lap, and if they shift a little it’ll sink its claws into their legs and scramble to leave them quick as it settled. 

Mingyu helps, shows them they can deserve good things for the sake of them. They’re worth taking care of.

And Mingyu is really,  _ really  _ good at taking care of them.

Mingyu’s hands have disappeared behind Seungkwan, ostensibly on his ass again, but he seems much more amenable to it now, trying not to grind into Mingyu’s mouth and biting back all these little sounds. The sun is turning the corner outside, the shifting sunset casting long shadows and setting the tableau of Mingyu, face pretty and pleased in Seungkwan’s lap, all awash in gold and umber. They look beautiful, sweat glittering and pretty noises pouring out of them both as Seungkwan looks increasingly disheveled.

“Oh, Mingyu, God,” Seungkwan grits out, eyelashes fluttering open and shut as he watches Mingyu work him over, “God, I’m, I—” and he shudders and grips Mingyu’s hair, lips pressing together to silence himself as he comes in Mingyu’s hot mouth.

“That was quick,” Mingyu teases once he’s swallowed, swiping at his mouth with one coy thumb. 

“Oh, my God,” Seungkwan huffs with an embarrassed eyeroll, tugging Mingyu up by the hair and finally, finally,  _ finally  _ kissing him, pushing at his chest and shoving him back into his original position against Seokmin’s front. Their mouths are needy and desperate against each other, both making these sighing little groans against Seokmin’s body. Mingyu is still so  _ squirmy,  _ leaking against his stomach and Seungkwan’s. 

Seokmin is so turned on he might pass out. How has he not touched himself? He deserves a gold medal.

Mingyu notices, and breaks away already giggling, sliding a hand up Seokmin’s arm. He squeezes it, and bites his lip. “Seok didn’t even get to help.”

“I think my brain is melting,” Seokmin says, blinking slow.

Seungkwan and Mingyu collapse in laughter against Seokmin’s chest. They both fit in his lap, between his arms, and are sweaty and giggly, and all of it makes Seokmin feel… more emotional than afternoon sex usually does.

Seungkwan leans up and presses a kiss to Seokmin’s cheek. “That’s just the sweat, hyung.”

Mingyu kisses his other cheek, and runs his hand back down Seokmin’s arm, lacing their fingers together. “Seungkwanie said you next.”

“Oh, and you always listen to me,” Seungkwan teases. Seokmin gasps when Seungkwan’s hand slides down his front, fingers tracing his dick through his sweatpants. “Mm, this for us?”

“Seungkwan,” Seokmin laughs at the cheap line, the sound of it shaking into a moan when Mingyu and Seungkwan both sink to their knees in front of him, Mingyu in a messy, eager collapse of legs and Seungkwan in a delicate little shift of movement.

Mingyu’s hands run up the insides of Seokmin’s thighs, Seokmin swallowing in anticipation and lifting up his hips so Seungkwan can pull down his pants and underwear. They—they haven’t  _ done  _ this before,  _ together _ like this, but suddenly Seokmin can’t imagine why. Seungkwan and Mingyu do everything together, the same way they do with Seokmin.

There’s something that feels unbearable and exciting about this moment, heat spiking up even as the sun is starting to go down, gold flecks in his boyfriends’ eyes as they gaze up at Seokmin.

“So… yeah?” asks Mingyu, tonguing one of his canines.

Seokmin grins down at them. “Yeah.”

He almost instantly regrets agreeing, as soon as Seungkwan kisses the head of his cock and Mingyu tongues at the side. It gets messy quick, and he’s sorry for the way his hips move up between them before he realizes it might be better that he’s not helplessly bucking down a throat, just sliding wet and easy between two tongues. Why exactly haven’t they done this before? Seokmin didn’t know he wanted it until they started. A taste of victory.

He’s not surprised how easily he’s falling apart; years of knowing Seungkwan and Mingyu come to this, right? He bares himself to them in myriad ways every day. They’ve seen him at his best (a star turn in the community musical, tears at his first and last curtain calls) and his worst (failing his drivers’ exam, a severe allergic reaction to a mystery dessert on a dinner date, the whole shower sex debacle). Them knowing what he wants before he does is not terribly out of character.

It’s sweet how Mingyu gets a little distracted, kissing half the time at Seokmin’s shaft and half at Seungkwan’s lips where they’re mouthing at Seokmin. It’s—beyond and in spite of itself, it’s  _ cute,  _ the way Seungkwan swats at him, smacks his hand onto the meat of Mingyu’s inner thigh, saying with a mouthful of Seokmin’s cock, sliding deeper by the second,  _ Stop! Focus, baby. _

“No, no, no,” Mingyu gasps, jerking away from Seungkwan’s touch, “I’m gonna come if you do that.”

“Yeah, oh, God, fuck,  _ yeah,”  _ Seokmin is saying over and over, his breaths coming shallow and rapid. “That’s so hot, Minggoo, you don’t have to wait, you should come,  _ please,  _ yeah.”

Seungkwan’s eyes glint, and pulls off Seokmin to say, “I deserve an award for what I’m about to do,” which is an absolutely bonkers thing to say, until Seungkwan spits in his hand, takes Seokmin into his mouth again, and gets his wet hand on Mingyu’s cock.

Mingyu falls on his ass onto the rug with a surprised shout. Seokmin completely understands the feeling.

It feels like mere moments of Seokmin and Mingyu whimpering and shuddering, Seungkwan sucking Seokmin, one hand on his thigh and one jerking Mingyu off quick and dirty like he likes before Seokmin is moaning on each breath, oh, God, he has to come—

Everything in Seokmin feels too-tight and too-loud as he trembles and comes  _ so _ hard into Seungkwan’s mouth, shakes and whines indiscriminately into the cooling air of the apartment. True to his agreement, Mingyu holds out, waiting for Seokmin to finish coming and nudge Seungkwan off his dick before coming with a shout into his hand, spilling hot between his perfect little fingers.

Mingyu gasps, “Fuck, oh, my God,” going spread-eagle onto the floor, barely managing to pull his shorts up again. He pulls them up too high. There is so much thigh. Mingyu is so gorgeous.

Seungkwan looks very pleased with himself as he wipes Mingyu’s come onto Mingyu’s stomach. Mingyu’s hands grab for Seungkwan’s shirt, tugging him in to land full-bodied onto his splayed-out figure, kissing him on the floor, sweet and swallowing his indignant complaints. Seokmin feels a little lightheaded, and it’s only partially to do with the post-orgasm tingles.

“I think I am going to save that move for special occasions,” Seungkwan laughs. “So don’t get used to it.”

“I don’t think I ever could,” Seokmin says, still kind of out of breath and half-naked on the couch, feeling very much like he just ran a marathon.

Mingyu giggles and reaches for Seokmin with both hands.

“Push the coffee table out of the way first, Mingyu, we’re gonna knock ourselves out like this,” Seungkwan says, mumbled against his collarbone, but reaches both hands out too while Mingyu follows instructions.

Seokmin lets his body weight roll off the couch, and yelps when he remembers his pants are around his ankles, tripping a little as he tumbles down into a pile with Seungkwan and Mingyu.

“See?” Seungkwan says, crooking his neck to kiss Seokmin, soft. “Come on the floor is enough of a problem for me.”

Mingyu whines, “We have been to the hospital one too many times for sex-related accidents. I do not want to repeat that traumatic experience!”

“To be fair, this would be post-sex-related,” Seokmin says, at the same time Seungkwan says, “You  _ love  _ us and don’t want us to be  _ hurt.  _ Aigoo, Minggooooo.”

Letting out a long, eerie sigh, Mingyu starts to attempt to crawl toward the kitchen backward, like some kind of horror-movie poltergeist, and Seokmin and Seungkwan cling to his sides to slow his movement. He loves working together. Teamwork makes the dream work. “I love you. I need to reheat the chicken. And we all need to hydrate, so I was going to get the teas.”

“My dick is still out,” Seokmin says cheerily.

“Hyung got milk tea. He should probably have water also.” Seungkwan sits up to let Mingyu get up, taking the opportunity to stretch again, and pulls up his underwear. He does a toe touch and looks unfairly good in his t-shirt and briefs, even as things start to go sienna and purple, the sun having all but disappeared from the room.

There’s a weird screeching noise suddenly, and at first Seokmin thinks it’s Mingyu leaning into the ghost thing but then he realizes. “Oh, the drama!”

Seungkwan smiles a little and curls up into Seokmin’s side. “We should probably just restart it. You and Mingyu probably fooled around through most of the exposition anyway. I don’t mind rewatching with you.”

The living room lamp flickers on, casting everything a warm ivory. The door of the microwave  _ clunks  _ shut only a handful of meters away, and Seokmin leans over, closes one eye and holds out his hand, pretending to palm Mingyu’s ass where he’s bent over in the kitchen looking for the reusable straws.

“Oh, so it’s okay to grope Mingyu,” Mingyu teases, his voice a little echoey from within the cabinet. “And you got _coffee,_ Seungkwanie?”

And Seokmin laughs, thinking that maybe being known is the biggest trophy he could ask for.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> find me on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/pixiepowerao3) and [curiouscat](http://www.curiouscat.me/pixiepower/)!


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